


Don't Look Up

by art_of_a_diffrent_color



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Light Angst, The Silmarils - Freeform, loss of volition, the sons of feanor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 00:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18905335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/art_of_a_diffrent_color/pseuds/art_of_a_diffrent_color
Summary: Maedhros would be the first to fall  into the - now ages old -  madness.





	Don't Look Up

**Author's Note:**

> So, just a short little thing exploring a question that came to mind while I was reading the other day. I don't own the characters or the books they come from. Please, Read, Review, and most importantly, Enjoy!

 

It was a thing they had come to learn the hard way. Stars, beautiful stars forever out of reach, once blessed to them, now an eternal torment. Maedhros would be the first to fall  into the - now ages old -  madness. As the new star sailed it's way across the night sky, the eldest son knew beyond words or the world's who it was: Eärendil. As he watched his mind left him like water through hands, thoughts consumed in pursuit of the gem, eyes fixed on the single point. There was no desire to move, to change position, only to watch it - to possess it.

For how long he stood there, none can say -  least of all the son of Fëanor - but it was only when the sun rose and chased from the sky all other points of light that Maedhros regained himself.

 

And so it was the next night, and the next until at last he was found by his brother. It was in a clearing between the trees that Maglor found his sibling rooted in place, transfixed by the sight above him. Calling out, Maglor sought his brothers attention, yet no response came. Calling out again, voice heavy with worry, Maglor came to stand in front of the taller elf.

 

"Háno?"

 

His face slack and eyes both focused and distant, Maedhros gave no response. Not until Maglor laid a hand on his arm did Maedhros move. It was sudden, the hand that before rested lax at the redheads side, snapped up to the throat of the singer. Gasping for air, Maglor clawed at the hand that lifted him from the ground, fearful of the madness in his brothers grey eyes.

 

All around them the forest was quiet, as if the world itself knew better then to make a noise.

 

"Brother-"

 

A snarl cuts off the gasping elf, primal in it's sound escaping the throat of the redhead.

 

"You want it for yourself. But none will stand in my way, none can stand in my way. Mine, the gem is mine." With each word, his hand tightens. 

 

As darkness begins to close in, Maglor takes what breath he can and begins to hum. The song, broken, choked and older then the moon above, works it's magic. Although the hand never loosens, the grey eyes gradually regain their focus, until all at once Maglors neck is released. The dark haired elf crumples, gladly sucking in lungfuls of air, never stopping in his song least he loose his brother once again to the madness.

 

Above him, Maedhros trembles, revulsion wracking his mind. What was this need,  this desire? A bitter disgust at himself and the stone twinkling in the sky rises. Crouching low, he reaches a tentative hand out to Maglor, unsure of it's welcome after such an assault. Yet Maglor takes it in one of his own, greatful to have his brother back. The dark haired Elf waits for the taller one to speak first, knowing not to push his brother before he is ready to speak.

 

Swallowing thickly, Maedhros gives the only warning he can as he pulls his brother to his feet:

 

"Do not look up."

 

Later, when they are safely hidden from the light of the stars under the canopy of the forest and out of earshot of their hostiges, Maedhros explains everything: The Silmaril, Eärendil, his desire, the bone deep need to possess and claim the stone - different from before. Perhaps, Maedhros muses, this is the cost of failing the oath.

Meanwhile, Maglor listen quietly, one hand over the dark plume covering his neck.  In the distance he can hear the sounds of their men as they climb the trees and take in the light above, finding joy in the creations of  Elbereth, catching sight of the new star. Already he can hear whispering of it's beauty, and he knows it will be revered, held as sacred.

 

He knows: he can never look up again.

**Author's Note:**

> I wondered how Earendil would effect them, and I figure it is kinda like the one ring with Gollum. They desire it, but hate it at the same time.


End file.
